


Dear Sherlock, Please Let Me Fix It For You

by ravyn_nevermore



Series: OTP: The Black Pearl [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Rape Aftermath, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravyn_nevermore/pseuds/ravyn_nevermore
Summary: John Watson is dead. Sherlock is safe and on the mend, emotionally. And he and James are learning what it means to love and be loved in return, how to be in a romantic relationship. But has Sherlock healed enough for them both to have what they want?By popular demand: a mini-sequel to Dear Jim, Please Will You Fix It For Me?





	Dear Sherlock, Please Let Me Fix It For You

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoy! I had a handful of requests for a sequel to my super well-received fic 'Dear Jim, Please Will You Fix It For Me?' in which John is the aggressor and Jim is the savior.   
> This isn't the greatest but it's a mini-sequel and I hope it gives you lots of fluffy feelings.   
> Remember: comments are a fic author's paycheck and kudos are tips! Thanks to all you lovelies! Xoxo

The aftermath of John’s attack and subsequent death was… interesting to say the least. The proceedings were strenuous and altogether tedious. There was no hiding what had happened. If they hid the body, someone would be looking for John eventually. They had to call and file a report.

Those few days in a cold, bland holding cell were miserable, even when Sherlock sneaked around to visit. Mycroft dragged Moriarty to court, trying to press kidnapping and murder charges. Luckily, he had the case file against John handy and security camera footage showed John arriving with a gun, looking angry. Moriarty had bruises from where he and Watson and scuffled before the gun changed hands and ended the monster’s life.

Sherlock had to pass multiple drug tests and be cleared by three different psychiatrists before his testimony as a witness and victim were accepted. By the end, the whole thing was wrapped up with a bow. Moriarty was released from custody and free of his charges. He did, however, have to threaten all local media to avoid having the story leaked and his reputation- and therefore career- ruined. Mycroft and Mrs Hudson both tried to insist that Sherlock should stay with one of them, but the poor detective had made his choice. He knew he was safe with the man he loved.

The first time Sherlock and Jim kissed, it was just a simple, absentminded brush of lips against stubble as Sherlock settled down to sleep on Jim's chest. Simple, but it made Jim's heart stumble so hard he had to catch his breath. Sherlock heard it and wondered what it meant.

The second time they kissed- days later- it wasn't the coffee that woke Sherlock. It was the soft, sleepy kiss early in the morning from a messy-haired James. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might leap from his chest. It hurt, but it thrilled him too. His veins felt like they were full of electricity. It was better than any high, stronger than any caffeine.

The next time they kissed, it was more planned, but more intense. They'd been enjoying a cigarette together under the stars on Jim's rooftop terrace. Their rooftop terrace. It was slow and tentative, four hands shaking and two pairs of lips trembling. They held onto each other for purchase as if they might fall or float away without doing so. The thunder of their nervous, excited, rejoiceful heartbeats was the perfect precursor to the rain that began to fall on them. They ran inside and learned to kiss lazily by the warmth and comfort of a fire.

From then on, kissing just became routine. They learned to kiss in different ways: slowly, quickly, deeply; and they learned to kiss for different reasons: good morning, good night, just because, and thank you.

The underlying problem, however, is that Moriarty is a sexual being. He struggles to ignore his desire, but he doesn't want to make Sherlock uncomfortable. He takes longer showers now as that seems the only way to relieve this tension.

This doesn't go unnoticed. Oh, Sherlock knows. He appreciates the effort, too. But he feels this is unfair as relationships are meant to be equal. He does want James. He wants him badly. He's just afraid. _Which is rubbish. I should be better by now. I want to try. I owe it to Jim. And to myself._

Sherlock joins Jim on the piano bench as the man works through a lengthy, beautiful piece by Mendelssohn. Jim smiles to himself, enjoying having Sherlock nearby. Sherlock watches his fingers dance over the keys, mesmerized. When the piece is finished, Sherlock's gaze moves up to Jim's face. He reaches out slowly and cups his cheek on the opposite side, turning Jim so they can make eye contact. The distance between them shortens until it's sealed with a deep and loving kiss.

The first few seconds are fine, but the longer Sherlock's lips linger, the hotter Jim's blood runs. He hums and runs his hands up Sherlock's back under his shirt. Immediately, however, he stops and withdraws, breaking the kiss too. He sighs and lowers his head. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock shrugs. “It's okay. I didn't say no.”

Jim looks up at him, “But I can't ignore this. I want you.”

“I know. But I didn't say no. It's okay.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes.”

“You're sure?”

Sherlock nods, despite not actually being certain at all. “Yes.”

Jim takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He stands and offers his hand to Sherlock, leading him to the bedroom.

The detective’s wary little heart flutters and jumps even as he lies on the soft mattress. Sharp eyes remain fixed on his lover, his gaze reflecting uncertainty masked by determination and love.

Jim kisses him tenderly. “If you change your mind, just say something and I'll stop immediately. Okay?” Sherlock nods, but he doesn't want to change his mind. He wants this.

It's clear that Moriarty has no intention of rushing through this. He tries to make Sherlock as comfortable as possible. His kisses are slow and lingering. His touches are gentle and caring. Soon, they're both shirtless. Jim's hands roam Sherlock's torso, fingers brushing his nipples. Sherlock moans a little. _This isn't bad at all_ , he thinks.

Jim wiggles out of his trousers and slowly strips Sherlock of his. The younger man starts to get a little nervous, but he says nothing. Jim goes about touching him again, but as soon as Jim's fingers reach below his belly button, Sherlock flinches considerably.

“No! Please! Stop!” Jim recoils immediately. Frustrated and embarrassed, Sherlock turns onto his side, facing away from Jim, and curls in on himself. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, sobbing quietly. He just couldn't shake the memory of what John had done to him. That wasn't fair to James or himself.

Jim’s heart shatters. He lightly touches Sherlock's back and, when he's met with no resistance, helps the detective roll back over. “Don't apologize. It isn't your fault. He can't hurt you anymore. He's dead.”

Sherlock sniffles and rubs his tears away with tightly clenched fists. “I know. It's just this stupid mental block I can't get past. I thought I was getting better. I thought I could do this.”

“You have gotten better. You're still healing, still trying to delete it. It's okay. But I want you to know… I hope you know... that I will never hurt you. I will never let anything bad happen to you again. I promise.”

Sherlock sniffles again and moves closer. “I know. I just… want this. I want you. But I can't--”

“Shh. It's okay. You'll get there eventually. And I will be patient every step of the way.”

Sherlock settles with his head on Jim's chest, finding comfort and sanctuary in the man’s heartbeat and breath. “Thank you, Jim.”

“I love you, Sherlock. You're safe now.”


End file.
